


Sins of the Father

by pprfaith



Series: Wishlist 2009 [7]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Buffy is a Winchester, Discovery, Incest, Multi, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Threesome incest, john's fault, m/f/m, old fic, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 09:00:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5122508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pprfaith/pseuds/pprfaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy and Sam and Dean in the shed behind the Roadhouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sins of the Father

**Author's Note:**

> Aforestgrew requested Buffy, the Vampire Slayer/Supernatural, Sam/Buffy/Dean, _Someone finds out and reacts, established relationship._ \- I ran with it and figured while we’re being deviant, why not go all out. Based in the same verse as my story Play a Game of Make Believe, where all three of them are siblings. It's not quite what you asked for, but I hope you like it anway.
> 
> 2009 repost.
> 
> (Fun fact: At that point, that was the kinkiest I'd ever written. Huh.)

+

Ellen is taking out the trash, marveling, as she does every day, at how much trash accumulates during a single night of serving beer and burgers. Two big, black bags full.

She drags them across the kitchen floor, gets stuck in the back door, curses like a sailor and hauls them both up to carry them across the dusty parking lot and fling them in the dumpster waiting behind a sorry hedge that was supposed to make the place look friendlier and hide the trash. Didn’t quite work out that way. The dusty, shriveled bushes barely reach her thighs.

One, two, she brushes her hands off on her jeans and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before turning around, intending to go back inside and wake Jo so she can start sweeping the bar. Then she sees that the door to the shed isn’t locked as it should be. The term ‘shed’ is used only for lack of a better word. The small building is a thrown together heap of metal and wooden beams. Once upon a time it held Bill’s tools and the stuff Ellen refused to have where Jo could reach it. These days it’s stuffed full with broken furniture, old crates and whatever else doesn’t have a place inside the bar or house anymore.

Nothing precious, nothing of any value, sentimental or otherwise. But the padlock on the door shouldn’t be open. Especially since it’s been almost a month since the last bar fight forced them to replace two chairs and a table and no-one’s been in there since. 

She slips the always ready knife out of her boot and automatically starts sneaking, walking in a wide circle to get to the almost blind window at the back of the shed. Ducking low, she edges forward until she can peer inside and freezes.

At first glance she thinks it’s Jo and Sam in there, making out like teenagers, but the girl sitting on a stack of empty whiskey crates is too short to be her daughter. 

It’s Buffy. 

Buffy, kissing Sam. 

Buffy, kissing her little brother. 

Who has his hands under her shirt and her legs around his waist. 

Sure, Ellen noticed how comfortable all three Winchesters are with each other, noticed how the only girl keeps flitting between them, touching here, grabbing a hand or finger there, always close. But this… this… this is wrong. It’s sick. They’re siblings, for heaven’s sake! They grew up together, share the same mother, the same father, the same _blood_!

Ellen slaps a hand over her mouth to keep in the gasp of shock and outrage and sinks down until she’s crouching in the dirt, the image of the tightly entwined brother and sister replaying endlessly inside her head. 

Dean. She has to tell Dean. He’s the oldest, the one who raised the other two. If he tells them to stop this, they will. They’d do anything for him.

Only, just then, Buffy’s voice reaches Ellen’s hiding place, low and raspy, like, like… like no person should ever sound in the vicinity of their blood family. “Dean’s gonna kill us.”

“Yeah?” Sam asks with a chuckle, low and amused and if she were twenty years younger, Ellen might be going a bit weak in the knees right about now. But that voice, the sex and wicked things in it, they are for his _sister_. 

“Mhm,” there is a pause, punctuated by the quiet sound of two people kissing sloppily. “We made him promise to behave while we’re here and now look at us.” 

Sam snickers and the sound of metal scraping along gravel is heard as someone pushes the door open a bit farther. 

“Now, that’s not fair,” a new voice declares and Ellen recognizes Dean’s playful drawl from watching him hustle pool in the bar. Her heart skips and the contents of her stomach plummet. He knows? He’s… he’s in on this? Not only the two of them, but three? All three? Wrong, some part of Ellen screams at the top of its lungs, wrong, this is so very wrong. “You don’t get to start without me.”

“Poor baby,” Buffy coos before breaking the charade by laughing. “That tickles,” she calls and then her words are muffled by what Ellen can only guess are her older brother’s lips on hers.

All three of them.

Not only Buffy and Sam, but all three of them. Together. John must be rotating in his grave, seeing what his children have become. She feels sick, sicker still when she can’t resist the pull of the dirty window and the sight beyond. She stands again, presses close to the wall and returns to watching what is going on inside.

Dean stands where his brother stood before him, in the V of his sister’s legs, kissing her slowly, lazily. Sam has moved to the side, his back to the window, one hand on Dean’s shoulder, the other on Buffy’s waist, watching. Somehow Ellen expects the frenzy of forbidden things, hot, angry passion tinged with guilt and maybe disgust. 

But that’s not what she sees.

What she sees is three people languidly touching each other, kissing, smiling, whispering. People who …love each other?

She wants to look away but can’t.

She always told John it wasn’t right how he raised those kids. Never trust anyone, look after each other, only family matters, those are only some of the rules the man beat into their skulls. They grew up with nothing but each other to cling to, knowing nothing but family. The first time she met those kids, six-year-old Dean was carrying little Sammy, Buffy clutching his arm like a lifeline. A unit, a being with three heads and one soul, even then.

And now… now Ellen feels sick, but not with those kids. Not anymore. Looking at them this way, so close, so wrapped up in each other, it’s not them she feels sickened by. They’re not to blame. Not really. It’s John. 

John did this. John messed these bright, brave children up so badly they can’t tell right from wrong. He made it so they can never love anyone but each other. Family before all else. Is it any wonder they turned to each other for this, too? 

John did this.

He’s dead now but what can Ellen do? It’s too late, far too late to fix those kids. She should have pushed Bill harder twenty years ago, should have fought to take the three of them away from their father. She knew he was bad for them. Why didn’t she do anything?

No, they’re set in their ways, ruined by the life they’ve had forced on them and this… 

…she puts a hand against the stained, dirty window, imagines she can see them perfectly clear. They are careful with each other. Treat each other like something precious. Not hurried, not greedy, not angry. There is no guilt in them. These moments in the shed, they aren’t stolen. They’ve been at this for a long time.

They don’t even know how wrong it is. John taught them all they know and he never taught them that you do not fuck your siblings.

And Ellen can’t take this away from them. If she tries, she knows, she can see that, she’ll lose them. And if she succeeds, there’ll be nothing left of them. What else do they have but each other?

Nothing. They have nothing. 

They had John, but John’s gone now. John, who looked away, had to look away, from the ruins he made of three innocent lives. And now Ellen will look away, too, because she can’t take the last of their happiness away.

She can’t. 

John did this. John broke his children so badly they find love only with each other, defying the laws of man and God.

She silently pulls away and carefully walks back to the house, one foot in front of the other, preparing to forgot what she saw, still sees in front of her mind’s eye. 

John did this and she hopes he burns in hell for it.

+


End file.
